Misery Bay (36 page)

I went up her walkway and knocked on her front door. After a few seconds, I heard the deadbolt sliding and then the door opened up just a crack, with the little security chain rattling on its latch, making sure the door wouldn’t open any farther. The same woman I had seen in the window was now looking at me. She was in her late sixties maybe, and she was wearing a pink robe and pink slippers. I could see a cat rubbing itself against the backs of her legs.

“I’m sorry to bother you, ma’am. Can I just ask you a couple of questions?”

“Who are you?”

“I’m a private investigator, ma’am.” At that moment, I wished I had one of those stupid cards Leon had made for us, once upon a time. “Can I come inside for a moment?”

“I’d rather talk to you from here, if you don’t mind.”

“Fair enough.” I wasn’t about to point out to her that her little chain wouldn’t have stopped any able-bodied person, if that person really wanted to come inside her house. “Can you tell me, did the house next door burn down?”

“It sure did.”

“About four years ago, right?”

“Yep. Burned right to the ground. They had to come out with a bulldozer and clean it all out. Then they filled the foundation with dirt. It was two weeks of unholy racket, I’ll tell you that much.”

“The family who lived there,” I said. “Those were the Bergmans, right?”

“The Bergmans, yes. The father’s the one who died in the fire.”

“Did you know them well?”

“I lived next door to that family for a long time, mister, but I think Darryl Bergman might have said three words to me the whole time. That man was as mean as a snake. I never meant to pry, but I couldn’t help noticing what was going on over there. Police cars coming by, his wife with the bruises on her face, young Bobby always looking like he was afraid of his own shadow.”

“There was a man named Clyde C. Wiley,” I said. “An actor. He came out here one time, about ten years ago…”

“I sure remember that day, yes. He came over and beat up on Darryl, then the wife and kid went tearing down the street in Darryl’s old truck. That was a hell of a day, I tell you. I’ve never heard such language.”

“You saw it happen?”

“Sure did. I thought they were running away from the scary-looking biker guy, but then it turned out he was the father, just trying to help them get away. The wife and Bobby came right back, though, so I guess it didn’t work. Things got even worse after that, let me tell you.”

“So you were also here when Mrs. Bergman committed suicide?”

“Yes, sir. That was another heck of a day right there. The police came out and I thought they were just gonna talk to Darryl again, but then the ambulance showed up and they wheeled her out on a stretcher with a sheet over her head. I saw some of the blood seeping through the sheet, from where she cut her own wrists.”

“That was about nine years ago, right? About a year after that other incident?”

“Has it been nine years already? I guess it has.”

“You’re being very helpful, ma’am. I appreciate you taking the time to talk to me.”

“I know it’s not a Christian thing to say, but I didn’t mind it all that much when that house burned down with Darryl inside it. I truly didn’t.”

“I understand. I only have one more question for you. Do you have any idea where Bobby Bergman may be right now?”

“Haven’t seen him since the fire,” she said, shaking her head. “Poor kid. Some people shouldn’t have to go through that much misery in their life, you know what I mean? I think that old camera of his was his only friend.”

“An old movie camera?”

“An ancient thing, yes. He was always horsing around with it. He took a movie of me one day. I think I might have given him a funny look about it.”

Of course, I thought. That was you. You were in that one scene, looking over the fence.

“Then I felt bad afterwards,” she said. “I should have been a better neighbor to the boy.”

“No, I’m sure you were just fine. Thanks again for talking to me. You have a good night.”

She said something to her cat as she closed the door. As I left, I heard the deadbolt sliding back into place. After everything that had happened next door, I couldn’t blame her for being a little scared, even if the house itself was nothing more than a memory now.

“Where are you now, Bobby Bergman?” I said, taking one last look at the empty lot. “And wherever you are, is your cousin with you?”

I got back in the truck. As long as I was here in town, there was one more place to go.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

I drove back downtown, past the overflowing bars and up the hill toward Charlie Razniewski’s old apartment building. Everything looked different without the waist-high snowbanks, but I found the building more or less where I remembered it. I parked the truck and took another breath of fresh air as I got out, hoping it would wake me up and help me get through the rest of this night.

I knocked on the door of the apartment. A few seconds later, the door was pulled open. It was Wayne, the kid I remembered as being Charlie’s best friend, even if that friendship had been complicated by the business with Charlie’s girlfriend. I blanked on her name for a moment, then it came to me. Rebecca.

“Mr. McKnight? What are you doing here?”

“Can I come in for a second?”

“Sure, of course.”

He let me in and I had to step around a stack of boxes just to get in the place. The big television was gone now, along with all of the other equipment that had dominated the far wall of the living room. Nevertheless, I could hear the thump of some kind of rock music coming from one of the bedrooms.

“Don’t mind the destruction here,” he said. “You sorta caught us in the middle of packing.”

“What’s going on? Is the school year over already?”

“Yeah, this is the last week of finals.”

“Okay, now I get it. All the parties in town…”

“Yeah, it’s kinda crazy, but I’m sorry, do you want to sit down or anything? I mean, what’s going on? Is everything all right?”

“Sure, I’ll sit down for one minute. I won’t take up much of your time, I promise. I just have a couple more questions for you.”

“Okay…” He looked confused, but he cleared off two chairs and half of the dining room table.

“How’s Rebecca?”

“Oh, she’s good. I’ll be seeing her in a few minutes. At the Downtowner.”

“That was the bar where I talked to everybody,” I said. “All of Charlie’s friends.”

“Yeah, that’s the one.”

“Well, I’ll get right to it, Wayne, so you don’t miss your date. A lot of crazy things have been happening ever since I first came out here. I now have reason to believe that Charlie didn’t really kill himself.”

I watched that one sink in.

“I don’t understand,” he said. “What kind of crazy things are you talking about?”

“There were more deaths, in Sault Ste. Marie, in Marquette, a few other places.”

“I didn’t hear about anything like that. Although, you know, I’ve got so much going on here at school…”

“Charlie’s father was murdered,” I said. “That’s the first thing I should really tell you. It happened just after I came out here.”

The color drained from his face. He tried to say something, but couldn’t make the words come out.

“You didn’t hear anything about that?” I said.

“Nobody told me. I swear to God.”

“You know what, I should have called back out here myself. I apologize. I guess I just assumed you would have heard.”

He shook his head. He was staring down at the table.

“So here’s my question,” I said. “I want to run a name by you…”

“Mr. McKnight, is that you?”

I looked up and saw one of the other roommates walking down the hallway toward us. It was the big kid, with the bad skin. He was carrying a framed poster of a woman in a bikini sitting on the hood of a red Ferrari.

“Bradley,” I said, pulling the name out of nowhere. “You’re Bradley, right?”

“That’s right, you got a good memory. What brings you to town?”

“Just asking Wayne a couple questions here, and actually, if you’ve got a minute…”

“Yeah, hey, I’m sorry about the loud music. Why didn’t you guys tell me you were talking out here?”

He leaned the poster against some boxes and retreated down the hallway.

“Guys talking out there and they don’t even tell me I should turn the music down…” His voice trailed off as he went back into his bedroom. That was the other thing I remembered about him. That kid was a real motormouth.

“He’s actually a great guy,” Wayne said. “You just have to put up with a few things. Like his fine taste in art.”

I smiled at the comment and looked down at the artwork in question. Hot girl in bikini, hot sports car. How can you go wrong?

That’s when I noticed what was behind it. It wasn’t one framed poster he was carrying. It was two framed posters. He had fanned them out when he leaned them against the boxes. I got up and pulled the first poster so I could see the second in its entirety.

A young Clyde C. Wiley, sitting on his bike. It was the movie poster for
Road Hogs
.

“Okay, I’m all set,” Bradley said as he came back down the hallway. “What kind of questions do you have for me? I hope it’s not geography.”

I put the poster down.

“Wayne,” I said, “didn’t you say you have to go meet Rebecca?”

“Well, yeah, but—”

“Go ahead. You don’t want to keep her waiting.”

“It’s really okay, she’s going to be—”

“Just get out of here,” I said to him. “Tell her hello for me.”

He stood there for one more awkward moment, then he grabbed his coat and left. Bradley had picked up on the sudden change of mood. He stood there looking at me and for once in his life he wasn’t babbling away.

“Sit down,” I said.

“What’s going on?”

“Just sit down.”

He did as he was told. I took my own chair back. I looked at him across the table and waited a few seconds.

“Mr. McKnight, tell me what’s going on.”

“You know, you complimented me on remembering your name, but you picked up my name right away.”

“You came out here to ask all those questions about Charlie,” he said. “Of course I remember you.”

“But I had a lot more names to remember. That’s what you’re saying.”

“You must have talked to a dozen people that night. So, yeah.”

“I think Bradley’s a fine name. Maybe that’s why I remembered it.”

“Um, okay. Thanks?” He was looking more rattled by the second.

“Good, strong name. Bradley. It’s distinctive. Don’t you agree?”

“Um, yes.”

“Just tell me one thing,” I leaned in for the kill. “Is Bradley your real name?”

“Yes.” He said it without blinking, and he looked genuinely surprised at the question.

“Where’d you get that poster?” Time to switch gears.

“A poster shop. I know it’s kinda dumb.”

“Not the girl and the car. The other one.”

“What, the movie poster?”

“Yes, the movie poster.”

“RJ left it here.”

“RJ?”

“Our other roommate. You met him. He left it here so I figured I could just take it. Is that a big problem? If you don’t think I should have taken it, why don’t you just—”

“Bradley,” I said. “Shut up a second. Where’s RJ?”

“I told you, he left.”

“When?”

“Like a few weeks ago. Three weeks? Four weeks?”

“Okay, wait, stop.” I had ten questions in my mind and I had to take a moment to put them in order. “Where did he go?”

“I don’t know. He didn’t say where he was going.”

“He just left? Without saying a word?”

“Yeah, pretty much. It was kinda weird.”

“Okay,” I said. “Okay. RJ. Yeah, I remember him now. Tall guy, dark hair?”

“Yeah…”

“And those initials. RJ…”

I stopped dead. I didn’t even have to ask him, but he told me anyway.

“Robert James,” he said. “Everybody called him RJ.”

“His last name?”

“Bergman.”

“Son of a bitch.” I slapped the table loud enough to make him jump.

“What’s the matter?”

“I was right here. Right in this apartment. I talked to him. I asked him questions.”

“You’re starting to scare me here. What’s going on?”

“This is very important,” I said. “You have to help me figure out where RJ is right now.”

“I told you, he left. He just didn’t come back one day.”

“Come back from where?”

“Well, he was always leaving for a few days at a time. He said he was going to the cottage for a while.”